An Era of Kings
by A Terrific Acorn
Summary: Hundreds of years before Roberts rebellion the seven kingdoms were exactly that, seven kingdoms. Each ruled by their own king and each king willing to fight for their throne. With the death of his father Daemon Targaryen takes his place as lord of Dragonstone, the ambitious young lord will soon have to learn how one plays the game of thrones in an era of kings. AU SYOC OPEN
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hey Fanfiction community! So, I've been reading and participating in SYOC on here for a while now and figured what the hell, might as well try writing one myself. I've been on a real ASOIAF/Game of thrones binge lately, re-reading the books, reading "A world of ice and fire", re-watching ****_some_**** of the show. So, I thought this would be a pretty good setting for my first story. The setting of this story is a pre-conquest AU and will follow the kings and queens of Westeros as the game of thrones is played on a massive scale. Now, I haven't written any fiction in, Christ, I'd say 5-6 years. So, as you may imagine I'm rather out of practise, any constructive criticism or ways I could improve is appreciated (please be kind tho, my soul is soft and innocent).**

**Anyway, enough of my rambling, please enjoy the prologue to… An Era of kings.**

_Dragonstone, Westeros _

Vaegon lay silently in his dimly lit chambers, the sound rain beating against the window and the occasional crack of thunder doing little to drown out his own wheezing. As he stared at the dancing flame of a nearby candle, one thought filled his mind, this was no way for a Dragonlord to die, wasting away in his bed with barely enough strength to breath let alone ride. Gods, how he longed to feel the wind flow through his hair as he rode atop Vhagar one last time. Alas he knew that was impossible, now he only hoped one of his children would claim her after his death, she was a loyal and mighty beast and deserved a rider that would match her, not a sick old man who couldn't even leave his bed to take a piss.

A hard knock echoed through the room, pulling Vaegon's attention from the candle to the dark wooden door.

"Enter" Vaegon called out, his once deep and commanding voice replaced by raspy wheeze.

The door slowly opened and Vaegon was greeted by the familiar black hair of Lyonel Baratheon, his bastard.

"You called for me, my lord?" Lyonel said, bowing as he entered the room.

"Leave the formalities at the door, boy. I called for my son, not a servant" Vaegon wheezed, giving his first born a warm smile and gesturing for him to take a seat.

"Very well father" Lyonel said, a sombre smile crept onto his face as he sat down next to his father, taking the lords frail hand in his own. "What can I do for you?"

Vaegon Smiled up at Lyonel, the boy seemed taller than he remembered, perhaps that was due to delirium of a dying man… Or perhaps he'd been trapped in this cursed bed longer then he thought. Either way, it was good to see his first born again. He must have been, what, twenty-four now? More of a man then a boy, the lower half of his handsome face hidden behind a well-groomed, jet black beard that connected to his thick slicked back hair by neatly trimmed sideburns. He had a small scar over his right eyebrow from an accident while sparring the master-at-arms, and a build and frame of a warrior, strong and tall… Gods he looked so much like his mother, that she never had the chance to see the man he would become caused Vaegon's heart to ache.

"You remind me of her so much" Vaegon muttered as he stared into Lyonel's pale lilac eyes, the one trait he had inherited from his father… The eyes of a Dragonlord.

Lyonel stared down at his father, taken aback by his statement. "Father, is this really the best time for this?"

"This could be our last time, we've never really spoken of her and I'm sorry for that, son. But we need to now, while I still can" Vaegon said, as he gave his son's hand a comforting squeeze… or at least tried to.

Lyonel visibly tensed at his father's words. The topic of his mother was one neither him nor his father liked to discuss, despite all the years that had passed the wounds were still very much there, he was hesitant to open those wounds any further. But he knew his father was right, his time was short and Lyonel would not refuse him this. With a sigh Lyonel gave his father a nod and began to speak.

"Honestly… I don't remember her much" Lyonel muttered, his voice was tense, and he avoided his father's gaze but did not pull away from his father's touch.

"She loved you Lyonel, more than life itself… She loved us both" Vaegon assured, he knew this conversation would cause them both pain, but Lyonel needed this. They both did.

"And did you love her too, or was she just…?" Lyonel snapped, unable to finish his sentence as he meet his father's gaze again.

Vaegon just stared into his son's eyes, the sound of Vaegon's wheezing breaths cutting into the silence of the moment and the angry in Lyonel's eyes soon turned to regret as he stared down at his frail father. He opened his mouth, about to apologise for his outburst but Vaegon cut him off.

"I did… Truly, I did" Vaegon said calmly "You are not the product of empty lusts or the claiming of first night, son. Your mother meant so much to me"

"If that's true, why didn't you…?" Lyonel began to say, swallowing the knot that had formed in his throat as memories of his mother began to flood back to him.

"Wed her? I'm a Targaryen, Lyonel, I had my duty" Vaegon said, wanting to spare his son having to ask a question that pained him. "We Valyrians, we are a different breed, we have different responsibilities then those of lesser blood. Our bloodline must remain pure" Vaegon could tell his explanation did little to bring his son peace. He knew Lyonel understood his reasoning, he was more than familiar with the Targaryen custom of wedding siblings and the reasons behind it. But Vaegon could remember how much the idea of marriage meant to the boy's mother, she never complained or pressed the matter, but Vaegon knew. "The blood of the dragon is our greatest gift… but it can also be our greatest burden, one I'm glad you will never have to fully know, my son" Vaegon said as placed his hand on Lyonel's cheek, the bristly beard tickling his slender fingers a little as he tried to comfort his son.

Lyonel leaned into his father touch, the lump in his throat grew harder to swallow as his father's words brought down a wave of emotions and he could feel the prick of tears starting to form in his eyes. "Thank you, father" he muttered, unsure of what to say as his mind raced, trying to process all the emotions he was feeling. He stared down at his dying father and listened to him talk about his dead mother and the whirlwind of emotions proved too much for him to bare, Lyonel finally lost his inner battle and tears began to flow.

Vaegon gave his son a wry smile, gently wiping away his tears with his thumb, his wheezing breaths began to slow, and he felt tired, oh so tired. He was running out of time.

"Don't cry for me son, I need you to be strong. Everything will change for our family in these coming days, they will need you… Daemon will need you" Vaegon clasped his hand around the back of Lyonel's head and pulled him close "I need you to promise me, son, promise me you will help him. He will have a mountain of responsibility thrust upon him, to be the last Dragonlord… I have tried my best to prepare him, but he will need someone loyal, a strong right hand he trusts to advise him and counsel him. You must be that person, Lyonel"

Vaegon locked eyes with his son, trapping the two in an intense gaze as Lyonel's face, still damp with tears, turned from a look of sadness to shock and finally to a look of hardened resolve. He had always been known as a bastard, a Dragonseed. And while he may have been treated with more respect than bastards on the mainland, these title had always grated on Lyonel, made him feel less. Now he had the chance to be something more.

"I promise, father… I promise"

"Thank you, my son" Vaegon said, giving a wheezy sigh of relief as he placed this forehead against his sons. "I know the two of you are destined for great things… Now leave me to rest"

Lyonel rose from his seat and gave his father's shoulder one last squeeze of comfort before walking out of the room, the dark wooden door closing slowly behind him. And just like that Vaegon was alone once again. Several flashes of thunder illuminated the room, giving Vaegon a glimpse of his reflection in the nearby window. His once well-groomed silver hair had become unkept and matted with sweat and grease, his once lean and fit body had become thin and skeletal. His fair skin and handsome face, once the picture of the near inhuman Valyrian beauty, was now a sickly pale green tinge. His features were gaunt, and his violet eyes seemed to sink into his skull, gods, he prayed this wouldn't be how his family remembered him. The room suddenly seemed to grow darker around him, despite the candle on his bedside still lively flickering, the sound of rain and thunder also seemed to dull and drift into the distance. Vaegon ragged breath quickened as a twinge of fear began to creep its way through his soul, he was going to die tonight, the thought finally being fully realised as he felt the life start to leave him. Suddenly, a familiar sound broke through the fear, a soft and feminine giggle. And a smell tickled his nose, sea salt with a hint of lavender and berries, a combination he remembered fondly… and hadn't smelled in years. He heard the giggle once again, this time closer. He shakily turned his head to face the direction of the sound and what he saw brought tears to his eyes. There, sat beside him was the visage of Lyonel's mother, her jet-black hair tumbled down her back and her lips curled into a warm smile as she looked down at him. She was still as beautiful as he remembered, seemingly unaged by the years that had passed. Vaegon didn't know if this was a hallucination, his dying mind playing one final trick on him, or if the gods had decided to send an angel to take his soul to it final destination. The visage leaned forward and placed a soft kiss upon the Dragonlords forehead, her lips were delicate and soft. Vaegon's breath slowed and he felt at peace.

"Celia" With his last breath Vaegon muttered one finally word, calling out to the ghost of his past that sat before him as the last of his life left his body and his eyes closed forever.

* * *

_Dragonstone, the following day_

The sky was grey, the storm from the night having mostly passed, only the grey clouds and bitter winds lingering. Daemon was thankful that the nights rain had passed, the day was sombre enough without it. He was a young man, barely into his twenty third year, his short silver hair shifted gently in the wind, and the bitter cold of the wind chilled his handsome, pale face. He wore a fine doublet of black silk and linen with elaborate red lining along its edges… Funeral clothes. The sound of muffled crying came from the crowd that had gathered behind Daemon, practically all of Dragonstone had come to pay their final respects to their fallen lord. Daemon stared at the wooden pyre that had his father's body now lay on, his body had been washed and dressed in his finest robes of black silks and in his cold skeletal hands lay Blackfyre, the ancestral sword of the Targaryen lineage. Hundreds of flowers had been placed on the pyre and at its base by the crowd of smallfolk, who had now retreated to a safe distance, twenty feet behind Daemon (who was himself twenty feet from the pyre). A mighty roar filled the sky, as a great shadow covered the crowd. Daemon looked up and saw the hulking form of Balerion soaring above him, the dragon flew a few circles over the pyre before slowly coming to land next to the young lord. Daemon reached out and placed his hand against the black scales of his old mount, the last living piece of his family's homeland. He knew what he had to do next, but the he couldn't bring himself to say the word, he suddenly felt something gently grip his free arm. He turned to see the face of his mother, Elaena Targaryen. Her long platinum hair tied into a long braid with a black veil on her head. She wore a fine black gown that matched her veil. Her lavender eyes, puffy from crying, stared into Daemon's own deep purple eyes as she gave his wrist a soft squeeze and a small nod of wordless encouragement. Daemon took a long and deep breath.

"Dracarys!" He yelled. Balerion then reared his giant head back before letting loose a blast of black fire, the heat of the dragon fire causing some of the townsfolk to shield their faces. But not Daemon, he was a Targaryen, the last of the Dragonlords of old Valyria. He merely stood there and watched as Balerion's fire consumed the pyre, his father's body gently turning to ash as the fire roared on.

As the fires died down Daemon walked forward, followed by his mother and other siblings (bar his half-brother, who was nowhere to be found). Together they made their way towards the still smoking remains of the pyre. Each knelt down and collected the ashes from the pyre into a several finely made Valyrian steel erns, ornate designs of dragons engraved into them. Daemon also picked up Blackfyre, the Valyrian steel longsword was still hot to the touch from Balerion's fire but had cooled enough to be only a mild discomfort to the young Valyrian lord. The crowd of mourners parted for the family as they made their way back to the keep of Dragonstone, each cradling Vaegon's ashes. They walked in silence and soon found themselves back behind the thick black walls of Dragonstone, Elaena led her children down to the tomb in which the Targaryen's interred their dead, Each ern was placed in a place of honour, beautiful stone dragons watching over Vaegon's final resting place.

"You did well, Daemon." Elaena spoke, placing her arms around her son "Your father is now at rest… and tomorrow you will be named Lord of Dragonstone, come, you must prepare"

"No" Daemon muttered shrugging free from his mother embrace; everything was moving too fast. He needed a minute to breath. "No… we will prepare later, now. Now I need some time alone"

Daemon didn't wait for his mother's response, he simply turned and left tomb. Daemon walked through the castle grounds, fast and silent, his mind raced, and he soon found himself atop one of the might Blackstone watch towers of the island fortress he called home. He sat alone, his legs dangling off the towers edge as he stared out across the ocean towards the mainland of Westeros. He pulled a small leather-bound journal from the inside of his clothes, he flipped through its pages, each one full of dozens of finely drawn charcoal sketches. He arrived at a clean page and pulled out a well-worn charcoal pencil and began to draw. Daemon found that these moments of silence and artistic creation were the best way to calm his mind, and his mind desperately needed calming today. From the second the maid had discovered his father's body in the early hours of the dawn he hadn't had a moment to himself. The day had been full of ceremony and tradition, being the heir, it was his duty to send off his father's spirit through dragon fire. It had also been his responsibility to comfort his mother, she had broken down more then once today, Daemon had lost a father, true. But she had lost a husband, a lover and a brother, he knew the day would be hardest for her. Daemon himself had yet to fully grasp the situation… at least he hoped that shock was the reason for what he was feeling, or the lack of what he was feeling would be more correct. It wasn't that he wasn't saddened by his father's death, he was. Just not in the way a son should be, there were no tears or sombre thoughts of memories past. In truth he and his father had never been the closest, while it was true the two spent much time together his father used that time to lecture and teach Daemon how to rule, seeing Daemon as more of a protégée, a piece of clay to be moulded to suit whatever design he wanted. No, the sadness Daemon felt was that of losing a mentor, his heart raced with both fear and excitement, soon he would be lord of Dragonstone, he only hoped his father's lessons would pay off.

"I thought I'd find you up here"

The sound of a low, masculine voice pulled Daemon from his thoughts. He turned to see the jet-black hair of his half-brother as he finished climbing the steps of the watch tower, breathing heavily as he reached its top. "I'll have to find a better place to think then" Daemon said, going back to his sketch.

"You mean a better place to brood" Lyonel said with a smile, still catching his breath. "Fucking stair" the bastard huffed as he sat down next to Daemon.

"Piss off Baratheon. I do not brood, I think. I know all those blows to the head might have stifled your ability to tell the difference" Daemon replied, keeping his eyes on his paper but unable to stop a smile creeping onto his face.

"Oh, don't you worry about me brother, I can tell the difference. I may not be an expert in thinking, but I am one on brooding. Besides, like you always said, my skulls thicker than these castle walls, it'll take more then a few blows in the training yard to turn me simple" Lyonel japed.

Despite his best efforts Daemon couldn't contain his laughter, a chuckle slipped from between his lips then another. Soon both brothers had fallen into a fit of laughter, truth be told, the joke wasn't even that funny, the laughter was more from emotional exhaustion. Soon the pairs laughter died down and Daemon let out a heavy sigh, a question had bothered him since the funeral, one he needed an answer to.

"Why weren't you at the pyre burning?"

Lyonel smile slowly dropped as he turned to face his younger brother, his lilac eyes meeting the deep purple of Daemons. "I thought it would be best if I wasn't present during the ceremony" Lyonel said, his head lowering in what Daemon imagined was shame.

"He was your father as much as he was mine, Lyonel. You should have been there"

"Lady Elaena has been through enough today, I didn't want to add the disrespect of a bastard being there" Lyonel muttered, his eyes still at his boots.

Daemon just stared at his brother for a moment. Lyonel was right, as much as pained him to admit it his mother would not have approved of Lyonel being there. Elaena had always held Lyonel in contempt, to most of the island Lyonel was a gift, a great Dragonseed, and Daemon loved him like the brother he was. But to his mother, Lyonel was a constant reminder of his father's infidelity. "Let me worry about my mother" Daemon muttered in response, placing a hand on his brother shoulder.

"Anyway" Lyonel said, loudly clearing his throat "You're going to be lord soon, how does it feel?"

"Honestly, I'm terrified and excited, I've been training for this day since I was boy and now that its finally here… I just hope I'm ready" Daemon said as he gazed out across the water.

"You are. I have faith in you Daemon, as did your father, as does this entire island" Lyonel placing a comforting hand on his brother shoulder and pulling him closer. "And I'll be by your side every step of the way. You have my word"

"Thank you, brother" Daemon said, wrapping one arm around Lyonel's shoulder and pulling him closer as they looked out over the call ocean, the sun beginning to slowly sink beneath the horizon.

As two brothers sat atop the great black watch tower Daemons deep purple eyes gazed across the horizon and focused on the mainland of Westeros. As he stared at the distant land and he knew that together with his family he could accomplish anything, his ambitions would be realised, and the history books would speak of him. A smile crept across him face

* * *

_The Sunset Sea, off the coast of Westeros_

"Oars in, sails at full mast. The winds on our sides lads, let her carry us home!"

The booming voice of Dagon Hoare reached every ear on the deck of the Endurance and her crew went to work. The men who had been previously rowing let out a small cheer as the pulled the large wooden oars out of the water and set them to the sides of the long ship. As oarsmen finished the other crewmen went about untying ropes and climbing riggings, unfurling the ships sails. In less then a minute the sails were down, the strong winds sent the Endurance slicing through the salty sea water. Dagon stood at the bow of the ship, his thick and messy black hair blowing wildly in the sea air and the saltwater sprayed his sun kissed skin. In the distance he could see his destination, Seagard, the port city to his family's kingdom. Three years he has been at sea, three years he has lived as his god commands Ironborn to live, and now he finally returns home.

"After all these years, I'll finally see her again" Dagon muttered to himself as he leaned against the Endurance's ram, questions filling his mind.

He wondered if his father had finally managed to finish his grandfather ambition, the mighty fucking eye sore that was Harrenhal, When Dagon left it was still years away from being complete, but they were given years. If it not Dagon was sure the riches of the east, he had brought with him would be more then enough for the old man to finally finish. His mind also wondered to his elder brother, he wondered if the man was still the vicious cunt, he remembered him as. Reavos Hoare was the reason Dagon's rugged good looks were blemished by the long scar across his left eye, the memory of that day caused Dagon to grind his teeth in contempt. He wasn't looking forward to meeting either of those pricks again, his fat arrogant father or his prick of a brother. There was one however, one person the thought of seeing again caused Dagon's heart to race. His sister, well, half-sister. Tessana, the daughter of one of his father salt wives, and one of the few people Dagon genuinely loved. His grimace turned into a smile at the thought of her thick red locks and kind face, and that smile only grew as he saw Seagard growing closer and closer.

"Oars back out lads, I want to be at land before sundown"

**A/N There we have it, my prologue chapter to my first SYOC. If the ending feels a little rushed that's because its 4:30am where I live and I just kinda wanted to get this chapter posted, I'll reread it later and correct any mistakes I've made.**

** If you enjoyed please follow, favourite and review, and if you're interested in** **the form and rules are on my profile. Until next time 3**


	2. AN: Characters so far and useful info

**Howdy folks, this chapter will just be a quick little update on the characters I have so far as well as the sorts of characters I am in most need of. I'll also include some information I think will be important for anyone who wants to create a character in the future, although I will be trying to avoid giving away any possible spoilers so I may be a little vague, if you need any more information PM me. That being said, submissions have been slower than I expected so this probably won't be very long anyway. I would also like to give a huge shout out to everyone who has sent in a character so far, I really appreciate you all taking the time to help me out with my story, and I can't wait to get writing it proper**

* * *

**TARGARYENS: House Targaryen are the rulers of Dragonstone and the surrounding islands. They have traditionally held a very isolationist attitude towards the rest of the Westeros, rarely venturing off their island for long periods. This was mainly due to the lords of Dragonstone seeing themselves as superior to the Westerosi and above their petty squabbles. Despite this they did makes sure the kings of Westeros knew of them and knew they or their dragons were not to be trifled with.**

**All members of the family can speak and read both the common tongue and High Valyrian. Most of the family also follows the old Valyrian religion. The pantheon of said faith being the following: **

**_Arrax - Ruler of Gods, law, order, justice, governance and strength. _**

**_Aegarax - God of all creatures that walk, run, swim or fly. Creator of the first dragon. _**

**_Balerion - God of death and the Underworld. _**

**_Caraxes - God of the sea, twin of Meraxes. _**

**_Gaelithox - God of fire, stars, moon, sun and the dawn, rival of Meraxes. _**

**_Meleys - Goddess of love and fertility. _**

**_Meraxes - Goddess of the sky, twin of Caraxes. _**

**_Shrykos - Goddess of beginnings, endings, transitions and doorways. _**

**_Syrax - Goddess of wine, fruitfulness, parties, festivals, madness, chaos, drunkenness, vegetation, and ecstasy. _**

**_Tessarion - Goddess of music, arts, knowledge, healing, plague, prophecy, poetry, beauty, and archery. _**

**_Tyraxes - Goddess of reason, wisdom, intelligence, skill, peace, warfare and battle strategy. _**

**_Vermax - God of boundaries, travel, communication, trade, language, and writing. _**

**_Vermithor - God of smiths, crafts and artisans. _**

**_Vhagar - God of war._**

**The current lord of Dragonstone and head of House Targaryen is Daemon Targaryen (though he is yet to be officially coronated, that will most likely happen next chapter). He is a proud, if not a little arrogant young man. He holds his family very close and sees them as his truest allies, be they true born or not. Unlike his ancestors Daemon is fascinated by Westeros and much of his ambitions for the future of his house lie in the mainland. Above all else he wants his rule to mean something. He is also the Dragon rider for Balerion **

**Lyonel Baratheon is the bastard of Dragonstone and Daemons right hand and most trusted friend. He is incredibly loyal to his family and is a highly skilled warrior, feeling he needed to make up for the fact he is not a dragon rider by becoming a skilled swordsmen.**

**Daemon also has up to 3 other true born siblings, at least 1 sister in her late teen- early 20s who is also his betrothed (I have yet to receive any other Targaryens).**

**Vaegon Targaryen was the most recent lord of Dragonstone before his death, he was loved by his people and a kind ruler to those under him. He had a strong relationship with his family, though he did tend to play favourite with his children. He was the Dragon rider for Vhagar **

**Elaena Targaryen is the current lady of Dragonstone and was Vaegons wife as well as his twin sister. She is the mother to Daemon and all his true born siblings. She is a loving mother, though can be both stubborn and stuck in her way. She values the traditions of house Targaryen and is an incredibly proud woman with a fierce temper when her or her family is insulted. **

**House Targaryen also has some allies from their small island kingdom, the three largest being House Verlaryon of Driftmark and House Celtigar of Claw Isle. Another ally of House Targaryen is House Veltaris, an OC house created by Flaming Fate Zero.**

**The main character I really need for house Targaryen is a sister-wife for Daemon, but I would also like to have a few other siblings for him.**

**STARKS: House Stark is the ruling house of the North and have been the kings and queens of winter for centuries. The current ruler of House Stark is Queen Alarra Stark. She was chosen by her father to become queen after he abdicated the throne to take the black after the death of his heir (he is now the lord commander of the night's watch). She was 16 years old when she took the throne and has been ruling for 4 years, the young age she took the throne has earned her the nickname "the wolf pup". She is a very cautious leader, wry of most people (especially outsiders), she is slow to trust and more than a little paranoid. She is a true Northern, stubborn and has her fair share of arrogance. That being said she Is also honourable and honest; she is deeply intelligent and gives of an aura of confidence. The stress of ruling does get to her however, as both a young ruler and a woman, because of this she has a soft spot for other female rulers.**

**I could use a few more Starks, uncles, aunts and siblings, true born of otherwise. I would also like a few bannermen at some point such as Mormonts and Boltons. On a side note, I'm allowing every Stark child to have a Direwolf if you as a creator want them to have one, I don't have a real reason for this besides thinking Direwolves are cool as shit.**

**ARRYN: House Arryn is the ruling house of the Vale. The ruler of House Arryn is king Osric VI Arryn, nicknamed "the gentle falcon". he took the crown at age 17 after the murder of his father by mountain clansmen, following his father's death and his ascension to the throne Osric spent the first few years of his reign fighting a bitter war against the mountain clans. Once his need for vengeance was met Osric returned to the Eyrie to finally do his duty as king. **

**Osric is a good and honourable king, loved by his people and respected by most. He is a forward thinker, almost Dornish in his attitudes towards sexuality, gender and social status to be irrelevant to a person's morality, preferring to judge based on their character rather than such superficial things. He is a tried and seasoned ruler, well into his seventeenth years as king. He is fair in judgment and reasonable in his temperament, he cares for both the smallfolk and great lords equally and as such is loved equally by both. However, he is also vengeful when wronged and has the pride and sometimes even arrogance that often plagues those of the Vale. He is also known as one of the greatest swordsmen in Westeros. **

**As for other Arryns I need, I need Osric's queen who he has been married to for 17 years. She would be someone who could be a capable ruler in her own right and not solely reliant on Osric. I would also like a few Arryn children sent in (an heir would be great but also some other sons and daughter, the eldest being around 17) **

**HOARE: The ruling house of the Iron islands and Riverlands, House Hoare is led by King Amos Hoare.**

**Amos is a cruel man, a reaver in his youth who raped and murdered his way through the Riverlands. His father started to build Harrenhal and after his death it became Amos's obsession to complete it. And after many, many years Amos finally has, having placed the final stone but two months ago. Despite his cruelty Amos is not a stupid man, he is calculating and quick witted, but is also incredibly arrogant (even more so now that Harrenhal is complete). Once a great warrior Amos is now fat and old, more bark than bite, though he still lives in those former glories. Despite all his fault Amos does have his own code and has one act he views pure evil and will never commit, the act of Kinslaying. **

**Reavos Hoare is the eldest son of Amos, A black hearted and sadistic man who views those beneath him as nothing but his playthings. He inherited his father's cruelty but none of his wit. **

**Dagon Hoare is the second-born son of Amos; Dagon is kinder than his brother but is still very much an Ironborn. He reaves and plunders, seeing it as the best way for a man to live his life. He isn't close with his most of his family and has a burning hatred for Reavos, that being said, he does care deeply for his younger half-sister, the two having a very close bond. Dagon has recently returned from 3 years at sea, having travelled from the free cities to Asshai.**

**Tessana "Tess" Hoare is the daughter of Amos and Jeyne Tully, who Amos took as a salt-wife. Tess is something of the black sheep of her family, being ignored by her father and tormented by her brother. She is a kind-hearted and reserved girl, taking after her mother in both appearance and personality. The only member of her family she is close to is her half-brother Dagon.**

**TULLY: The leader of House Tully is Quentyn Tully. He took over as lord of Riverrun after the mysterious death his older brother Sterlan via poisoning. House Tully is no stranger to tragedy, having lost a great deal of power when the Hoare's took the Riverlands. While still a great Riverlord house the Tullys are still nothing compared to their Ironborn overlords, as proven when Quentyn's sister was taken as a salt wife by Amos Hoare. This event sparked a short rebellion led by Quentyn's eldest brother Tirius, a rebellion ending with Tirius's head being sent back to Riverrun, as such the two families have a fragile peace for now but there is still a deep hatred between the two. **

**MARTELL: The ruling house of Dorne, House Martell is ruled by Princess Allyria Martell. **

**She took the throne after the death of her mother at the age of 14 and has ruled Dorne for 15 years. The start of her reign was not an easy one, the kingdoms of the Reach and Stormlands thinking that Dorne would be under her rule decided to invade. Allyria proved to be the opposite of weak however, despite her young age she managed to defend Dorne's borders from the invaders. She became well known as a fierce warrior, charging into battle alongside her men, wielding her mighty spear. After 5 years of fighting Allyria managed to beat back the forces of the Reach and the Stormlands and Dorne was once again at peace. **

**Allyria is above all else an intelligent woman, being equally capable at handling and understanding both battle plans and courtly intrigue. She is a talented warrior, being an expert horse rider and spear user. She is highly confident in her own abilities and is a highly experienced. She is as fiery and hot blooded as the Dornish deserts she rules over and** **has a very dominating personality, which at times can be a detriment to her. Being Dornish, she is also a very passionate woman who is not afraid to openly enjoy all life has to offer, be it pleasures of the flesh, the thrill of battle or the drama of politics. She has been known to have had many lovers but only one truly has her heart, seeing love and sex as two separate thing.**

**As for Martell character I would like; I need a lover for Allyria, they can be male or female. If you want you are more than welcome to send in some of Allyria's children, though they would all be bastards as she isn't married.**

**DURRANDON: The ruling house of the Stormlands, House Durrandon is ruled by King Darrick Durrandon. **

**He took the throne at the age of 18 after the death of his father at the hands of the Ironborn of house Hoare as they tried to invade Stormlands. After taking his crown he rallied his bannermen waged a bloody war against the Ironborn, being a skilled and brutal warrior ( and already standing well over 7 feet tall) wielding his mighty Warhammer, Darrick drove back the forces of House Hoare, earning the nickname "The Walking Storm". After two years of fighting he managed to either kill or beat back all Ironborn in his land and bring peace to the Stormlands, he soon was wed to a beautiful young woman from house Buckler. The two had a good and loving marriage, having some children together, unfortunately his wife died 12 years ago. **

**Darrick is an arrogant and proud man, rightfully so, having proven his might in the two years of war where he pushed back the Ironborn hordes and regained his family's honour. He is a giant of a man with a fiery temper, he takes insults to his house seriously and is not a man to take slights lying down. He is a very skilled warrior, favouring the Warhammer over a blade, using his immense size and strength to shatter bones and crack skulls on the battlefield, he is not a man to shy away from violence. Despite his temper and arrogance Darrick cares deeply for his family and loves his children, he never fully recovered from the death of his wife.**

**The characters I need for house Durrandon are Darrick's children (at least one daughter 20-24). His wife died at the age of 30, so keep that in mind.**

**GARDENER: House Gardener is the ruling house of the kingdom of the Reach, I have yet to receive any Gardeners… so yeah, not much to really put here.**

**LANNISTER: The Lannisters are the ruling house of the kingdom of the Rock. So far, I only have one Lannister, Prince Tylan Lannister nicknamed "The Black Lion". Tylan is a prodigy, knighted at 16 and highly skilled with a sword, despite being a knight Tylan is also arrogant, prideful and selfish. Stoic and reserved despite his young age, he has been described as cold-hearted and at times without emotion. Tylan is obsessed with control and prides himself on his ability to stay composed in extreme situations.**

**The Lannister I need most is the leader of house Lannister, preferably a King. I would also like a Lannister queen and a few siblings for Tylan.**

* * *

**There we have it. I hope this chapter will be useful to anyone who wants to submit a character, if you have any more questions please don't hesitate to ask. I do have the next real chapter of this story planned out, I just need a few more Targaryens before I can really start it. Once again, a huge thank you to everyone who's submitted so far, I can't overstate how much I appreciate it and how excited I am to write this story. Until Next time!**


	3. A Crown for a king

**A/N: Here is the second official chapter to "An Era of Kings", This one is shorter than the first, but I hope you all enjoy it!**

_Dragonstone, Westeros._

Maekar stood in the throne room of Dragonstone, his eyes struggling to focus on the ceremony happening in front of him, Daemon on his knees in front of the Dragonstone throne, their mother standing over him, Blackfyre in hand, reciting some old Valyrian pledge. The both of them flanked by a small crowd of the lords, ladies and knights that owed his family fealty, and they were all there for the same reason, to see Daemon be crowned Lord of Dragonstone. A momentous occasion to be sure but all Maekar could think about was how badly his head was throbbing, It. Was. Killing. Him. The consequence of drinking away one's woes, still his father had just died, he had a right to get drunk. Alas, the justification did little to alleviate the dull thudding ache that beat against the inside of his skull with every noise he heard and gods there was so much noise.

"how's your head?"

Maekar winced as he felt his head pulse again as someone whispered into his ear. Turned to away from the ceremony that was taking place in front of him to face the source of the sound, he was met with the smirking face of Viserra, his younger sister.

"Leave me be Serri, I'm in no mood for a lecture" Maekar said with a groan followed by a hard swallow.

"Oh? Then you better hide before the ceremony finishes, Daemon was not happy when he saw the state you were in last night" Viserra replied her smirk growing

"That bad, huh?"

"Oh yes. I believe the words irresponsible and drunkard were used"

Maekar's pale lilac eyes lowered and he let out a heavy sigh, the words were all too familiar coming from Daemon but hurt nonetheless, he understood this was a stressful time for his brother, more so than his other siblings (aside from maybe Rhaella). Still they had all lost their father, and while Maekar had never been close to the man, Vaegons death had shaken him, he felt anger, pain but most of all regret… He should have visited him more. A sudden round of applause pulled Maekar from his thoughts and he lifted his head to once again look towards the coronation, there he saw Daemon, now on his feet, Blackfyre resting firmly in a scabbard on his hip and their fathers old Valyrian steel ring on the ring finger of his right hand. Daemon stared at his younger brother for a moment, giving him a brief look of disappointment before walking out of the throne room followed by their mother and then by the crowd of nobles as he had his way towards the banquet hall.

"I'll be sure to save you a nice, tall glass of wine, brother" Viserra chuckled, giving her brother a quick peck on the cheek before following the crowd towards the feast. Maekar shuddered at his sister's words, he now stood alone in the throne room of Dragonstone, staring at the throne for a few moments more before following his family into the banquet hall.

* * *

The banquet hall was bustling with laughter and music as the lord and ladies feasted. Rhaella sat quietly at the main table of the hall, overlooking the crowd of people, there were more here than there should be. She had expected the silver seahorse of House Velaryon and the crabs of house Celtigar but the red, green and blue connected spirals of House Massey, that was unexpected. The Massey's may have been one of the few mainland houses that her family had direct interaction with and the trade between the Targaryens and the lords of Stonedance had been an ongoing arrangement for two generations now, still the two families were far from friends, so why were they attending her brothers coronation?

"Why did he invite them?" She asked, turning to face her mother who sat to her left.

"You're going to need to more specific, dear" Elaena said, keeping her eyes forward.

"You know what I'm talking about mother, why did he invite the mainlanders?"

"Well, they did supply most of this fine food we're enjoying. Maybe he simply wanted them to see the fruits of their labour"

"I thought sarcasm was unbecoming of a lady?" Rhaella scoffed "You are just as aware of Daemons obsession with the mainland as I am, who else will he bring into our home next? How deeply will his ambitions drag us into the petty squabbling and wars of lesser _kings?" _

Elaena bit her lip as she looked over Rhaella's shoulder towards her eldest son, a grimace forming on her face as she saw him muttering something to the black-haired bastard of Dragonstone. Rhaella was right, it was only a matter of time before Daemons curiosity and ambitions got the better of him… And then everything would change, Rhaella needed to be ready for that.

"Listen to me Rhaella" Elaena placed a hand over her daughter and locked eyes with her "In the coming weeks you will take your place at Daemons side, as Lady of Dragonstone it will be your duty to be his lover, his sister and above all his fiercest ally. You must support him no matter what"

"So, I'm to play the part of the obedient wife? never questioning my lord husband no matter how foolish his actions may be?"

"Daemon has an innocence to him; he views the mainland and its people with a child-like wonder. You know better, you understand why our family secluded themselves from those warmongering so-called kings. You must act as his balance, remind him who he is should he lose himself"

Rhaella bit her lip, looking over her shoulder she gazed at Daemon. They had always been close; she had been his closest friend after Lyonel and was perhaps the only person who truly knew how deep Daemons ambitions ran. She knew how stubbornly he would cling to those dreams, no matter how much love the two shared she knew there would be no changing Daemons mind. She opened her mouth to reply to her mother but was cut off by a loud bang as the door to the banquet hall swung open and a one of the guards ran in.

"Thousand apologies m'lord, but… something's happened" the man huffed as he dropped to one knee in front of Daemon

"Calm yourself man" Daemon said softly "Collect your breath then tell me what happened.

The man took a moment to catch his breath, his metal breastplate rising and falling with each breath until he finally cleared his throat. "The lookouts spotted three unknown ships approaching from the east, m'lord. No one recognises the colours they're flying" The man explained.

Daemon rubbed his chin as he listened to the man before he rose from his seat "Viserra, Rhaella, mount up and join me to meet these… guests"

The two sisters nodded and made their way out of the banquet hall, Viserra having a slight spring in her step as she left to find her dragon. Maekar tried to join his sisters but was pushed back into his seat by Daemon

"No, you stay here… Finish your drink, brother" Daemon said to the younger brother, pouring him another glass of wine before leaving to find Balerion. Maekar scowled into the wine for a moment before shoving it to the side and leaned back into his chair.

* * *

_The Narrow sea, off the coast of Dragonstone._

Valar Veltaris was not a man that suffered from a weak stomach, having been raised in Qohor he was more than accustomed to grotesque sights such as the daily blood sacrifices the followers of the Black Goat seemed to be obsessed with preforming. And yet here he was, stood on the bow of a ship, leant over its railing, his stomach threatening to send more of the mornings breakfast flying into the ocean below. As he stared out across the churning ocean towards the volcanic island that sat in the distant part of him wondered if he had been a fool, traveling halfway across the world, leaving his family and home behind all on the word and gossip of some Volantene nobles? No, no he couldn't think like that, the rumours were true, they had to be, on the island that sat in the distance were the last of the Dragonlords of Valyria… and it was the will of the gods for him to meet them.

"īlon jāhor māzigon tegon aderī, āeksio" A deep voice called out from behind Valar, pulling the man from his thoughts.

"Kirimvose Sallar, emagon se tolie derēbagon se irudy" Valar said, turning to face the dark-haired man captaining the ship.

"Kessa, āeksio" Sallar said with a respectful nod before calling to one of the other crewmen who then scurried below deck to prepare the cargo.

Valar smiled up at the man, returning the respectful nod. He was happy that Sallar had joined him on this journey, the man may have been his slave but he was amongst Valar's oldest and closest friends, He could think of no one better to have by his side on this trek across the vast and briny expanse that separated Essos from Westeros. Valar gazed back out towards the island of Dragonstone, his eyes following the steady stream of smoke that filtered out of the volcanic island and into the grey sky above as his mind began to wander once again. A roar cut through the sky and yanked Valar from his thoughts, a wide smile curled onto his face as he began to scan the sky, desperately looking for the source of the sound. Another roar hit his ears, this one louder than before, the crew began to mimic their master and scan the skies above, their faces a mix of fear and excitement. A third roar echoed through the skies, this one louder than the past two combined and Valar finally saw the creatures that made them. Circling high above the ship were three dragons, one of cotton white scales and deep red eye, the smallest of the three, much more serpent like in appearance than the other two but also clearly the fastest. The second dragon was larger, much larger than the white one, its scales were silver and its eyes a vibrant gold. The third dragon was the largest by far, with each turn it made its wings alone cast a shadow larger than Valar's whole galley, its scales were black, and its eyes seemed to be made of swirling fire. And on each of these incredible beasts' backs sat a person, silver hair blowing in the wind, it took all of Valar's strength not to drop to his knees in reverence, the rumours were true, the Dragonlords lived!

Not all the ships crew seemed to share in Valar's awe, and a panicked muttering began pass from person to person as the dragons continued to circle above "Gīda aōla ao mittys! Bisa iksos skoros īlon māzigon syt" Valar snapped, silencing the men's concerned chittering.

The largest of the dragons began to descend, hovering slightly above the ship. "What is your business here, outsider?" Its rider called out to the crew.

"We have come to meet with the last of the Dragonlords" Valar called out, a giddy grin still plastered onto his face as his eyes looked up to the man before him "We have come to meet with Lord Targaryen"

"So, you come Unannounced?"

"I meant no disrespect, we have come from far off land, the city of Qohor. I was unsure if you were even real"

The rider smirked ever so slightly, it seemed like Valar had impressed the man… or at the very least peaked his curiosity. "Take your ships to port in the village, any deviation from that area will be taken as a threat and I will burn you and your men alive" The rider called out before turning in the skies and flying back to the island, the other two rider following suit… Valar could swear he heard the rider of the smallest dragon giggle as they flew away.

Meanwhile on the docks of Dragonstone, Daemon stood silently, watching the ships pull into the dock, Blackfyre still hanging securely from his hip and his family by his sides.

"So, what do you think they want?" Lyonel asked, his voice but a whisper as he leaned close to his brother.

"I don't know, but whatever it is I'm sure it'll be interesting. Qohor is long ways away, nobody would travel that far for no reason"

Lyonel grunted in response, he didn't like this, a strange man from a strange land coming halfway across the world just to meet his brother? Something about that just felt off. His pale lilac eyes followed what seemed to be the flag ship of this miniature fleet as it came to a stop at the docks.

"I think I'll be to handle this without you brother, I need you to prepare the ravens, just as we planned" Daemon said turning to his brother, Lyonel stared at the ship for a moment longer before nodding and turned to return to the castle.

A plank of wood was placed over the ships edge to act as a ramp and what walked down it shocked everyone there. Walking down the sturdy wooden ramp was a stout and short man, barley 5 feet in height and having a wide build though by no means fat. No, his chest was barrelled, and his arms were large with very defined muscles. His skin had a strange blueish grey tone to it and his eyes were a deep sapphire blue. His clothes were finely made but very exotic, a mix of silk sashes and ornately decorated robes with golden trims. To say he was a strange sight would be an understatement.

"My lord! It is the greatest of honour to finally make your acquaintance" The man called out, his arms outstretched and a wide smile on his face as he walked down the wooden ramp.

"Honour can wait, first you will tell me who you are and why you come to my home unannounced" Daemon replied sternly.

"Of course, my lord, again I meant no disrespect" the strange blue man dropped to one knee in front of Daemon "My name is Valar Veltaris, the head of the last Iron lord clan. I have come to fulfil the will of the gods and pledge myself and my service to your family"

Daemon looked down at the short man kneeling before him with a confused and curious look on his face, he turned to his mother, completely taken aback by what Valar was saying.

"The Iron lord of Old Valyria, famed and talented craftsmen that pledged their services to the Dragonlords, at least that what I've read… I thought they all died out in the doom" Elaena said an equal look of confusion but also fascination on her face.

"The gods willed that one Dragonlord family and one Iron lord family survive the doom and together they shall rebuild Valyria anew!"

Daemon let out a chuckle, he had to admit, the man had passion "The gods haven't willed much since the doom… and you expect me to trust you on their word alone?"

"No, my lord, I don't. But I hope the gifts I have brought with me will help build a path to trust" Valar said before turning back to the ship and calling out in Valyrian "Jiōragon se pāletilla! Adhirikydho"

A dark-haired man on the deck of the ship nodded and hurried below deck and returned in a matter of minutes holding a small wooden chest. He hopped off the ship and hurried to Valar's side, handing the still kneeling man the chest before bowing low and backing away.

"I have spent years working on this piece, a gift worthy of a Dragonlord. Since I first heard the rumours of your family" Valar said as he slowly opened the chest and presented it to Daemon.

Inside, sat on a purple silk cushion was a crown of dark Valyrian steel. The circlet had been flawlessly forged and engraved into the look like four dragons, intertwining and twisting in a frozen dance. Perfectly cut rubies sat in the eye sockets of each dragon and their flames seemed to flow in the sunlight. Daemon looked down in awe at the master craftsmanship that sat in his hand before looking back to Valar

"A crown for a king"

**So, there we have it, the second official chapter to "An Era of Kings". I'll be completely honest, I'm not too sure about this chapter myself, I had originally written another 4k+ chapter but I really didn't like how it turned it (that why this took me so long), honestly I kind of view this as a sort of filler chapter as I wanted to introduce all of the Targaryens before moving onto the other houses. Either way I hope you all enjoyed it, please leave a review letting me know your thoughts.**

**I'd also like to take a moment to quickly go into a little more detail about my hopes for this story. So, as you can probably imagine, this story is very ambitious, I plan on having it span years of these character lives. For that reason, I've decided to take a page out of ****_Rougeification_**** and have this story span multiple instalment, I think this will make it much easier to write and hopeful it'll also help the stories flow better. I plan on having 4 phases to this story, with this phase acting as an introduction to the character and the worlds current state, for this reasons we may not see the Targaryen character for a few chapter as I want to give the other regions and character their time in the spot light (the next chapter is one I'm very excited to write btw, I can't wait for you guys to read it). If you have any questions (that aren't spoilers) please ask.**

**I'd also like to give a huge thank you to ****_Lawrence Cartwright _****for all the character's they have submitted for this story and the unbelievable amount of detail they put into each of the form they sent in. Please be sure to check out their work if you haven't already.**

**P.S. Valyrian translations:**

**īlon jāhor māzigon tegon aderī, āeksio: We shall arrive at land soon, Master**

**Kirimvose Sallar, emagon se tolie derēbagon se irudy: Thank you Sallad, have the other ready the gifts**

**Kessa, āeksio: Yes, Master**

**Gīda aōla ao mittys! Bisa iksos skoros īlon māzigon syt: Calm yourself you fools! This is what we came for**

**Jiōragon se pāletilla! Adhirikydho: Get the crown! Quickly**

**Valyrian is a real bitch to get an accurate translation of, being a fictional language and all, but I personally love stories that have multiple languages in them as I think it make the world feel more real. What do guys think? keep the Valyrian or no?**

**Anyways that it from me folks, until next time!**


	4. Here We Stand

**A/N: Hey guys! Its been a while huh, sorry about that. Things have been pretty crazy for everyone lately and… Well, my grandmother passed away recently and that kinda messed with my head (not to mention that I couldn't even go to her funeral). I completely lost my motivation to do pretty much anything and was in a pretty poor head space. but I feel like I've mourned enough to at least start writing again, I think it'll be a good distraction. Anyway, enough of me being a downer, I know you all want to get to the actual story, so without further ado I give you the third chapter to "An Era of King"**

_Winterfell, The kingdom of the North_

The orange light of sunset spilled through the frost covered windows of the throne room of Winterfell, the room teemed with the muffled voices of lords as they spoke amongst themselves. Alarra Stark sat in the throne of Winterfell, the ancestral seat of the monarchs of Winter. It was a large wooden throne covered in beautiful carvings of Direwolves, the arms in particular were intricately carved to resemble two Direwolf heads, one with a stoic, calm possibly even thoughtful expression the other with an expression of fierce anger, its teeth bared ready to strike. Her father had always told her that these two wolves were what every King of Winter should be, fair, calm and wise but also fierce and prepared to kill to protect his people and his throne… But now there was no king in Winterfell but a queen instead and only time would tell if the same rules applied.

Alarra let out a silent sigh as she reached down to scratch Eris behind her ears as the black furred Direwolf slept at her feet. The softly snoring Direwolf stirred slightly before lifting her head, her green eyes meeting Alarra's soft grey ones, Eris rose into a sitting position and let out a few panting breaths before yawning. Alarra couldn't help but chuckle at the wolf and found herself agreeing with the tired creature., the day had been long, long tiring and boring, full of lord after lord bring whatever petty dispute or asinine request they thought important enough to bring before their queen. As much as she may have loathed these day long meetings Alarra knew they were important, being a woman ruler was hard enough but being a woman barely into her second decade of life made it even harder. That was why she held these meetings as often as she did, she needed to show her vassal lords she cared, that she valued their fealty and rewarded their loyalty… But she also had to show them that she was the one in control, she was the reason their grievances were dealt with and their rivalries were squashed, she could not afford to appear weak, they needed to be constantly reminded her word was law.

"With any luck we should be done soon you're grace" A soft and frail voice whispered.

Alarra turned to face to source of the whisper, meeting the gaze of Maester Kaylin, an elderly man easily in his seventh decade of life, dressed in loose fitting dark grey robes and large chain hung around his neck. Each link of the chain was a different metal, iron, black iron, yellow gold and even a link of Valyrian steel. The Maester had served house Stark long before Alarra had been born and had become one of her wisest and most trusted advisors since she took the throne.

Alarra gave the old maester a small smile and rubbed her tired eyes for moment, taking note of the pile of parchment that sat in front of the Maester, a full list of all things asked of her today. Alarra couldn't help but grimace at the sight.

"Are there any other matters that should be brought to my attention, my lords?" She said in a tired yet respectful tone.

"I believe so you're grace" A voice called out from the crowd of lords

A young man stepped forward through the crowd of lords, he wore finely made yet simple clothes, a linen tunic and a pair of leather breeches, all black or a dark shade of grey. On his feet he worn simple, black leather riding boots, caked in snow and mud. The only colour to his attire being the pale pink cloak trimmed with white fur that hung around his neck and a finely made golden pin engraved with a flayed man used to fasten it in place. Alarra recognised the man as Lord Rogar Bolton, she was surprised to see the lord of the Dreadfort in Winterfell, the Boltons rarely if ever attended her meetings… Or any formal occasion held by the Starks to be completely honest.

Lord Rogar knelt in the middle of the throne room and bowed his head "My Queen, may the old gods watch over you and your kin" the young lord said in a polite tone.

"Rise my lord" Alarra replied. The young lord rose to his feet, brushing his long black hair out of his face, giving everyone in the room a clear view of the long scar running from his left eye to his neck. "is there something you wish to bring to my attention?"

"There is, you're grace" Lord Rogar replied, Alarra felt a chill run over her as her grey eyes met Lord Rogar's haunting pale blue eyes "A village have been attacked on my lands"

"Is it not the responsibility of a lord to protect their own fiefdoms, Lord Bolton?" Alarra leaned back into her throne

"Yes, you're Grace, it is" Lord Rogar replied, his polite smile waning for just a second "However, this attack was not caused by simple bandits or brigands. The brutality shown was… Well, perhaps I am not the one to describe then"

Lord Rogar gestured towards the crowd, a young girl stepped forward, she was a scrawny looking thing, no older than ten, with short mousey hair and oval brown eyes that seemed to stare off into nothing.

"This sweet creature is Mary, you're grace" Lord Rogar said, taking the young girl by the hand and guiding her next to him "The only survivor of this attack".

"You're Grace" the girl muttered, giving an awkward curtsy.

Alarra leaned forward in her throne, eyeing up the young girl for a moment. She was clad in a simple green dress, covered in mud and at least half a size too big for her skinny frame. Her face was still smeared in mud and what appeared to be tears and her hair was unkempt and matted

"Is what Lord Bolton says true girl? Did you witness this attack?" The young girl nodded timidly "Can you tell me what happened?"

Mary wrung her hand together nervously as her eyes moved from Alarra to Rogar "Its fine my dear, you have nothing to fear here" Lord Rogar said, giving the girl an attempt at a comforting smile

Mary swallowed hard before speaking "I hail from Icedale You're grace"

"Icedale is… Was a fishing village where the Weeping Water meets the Shivering Sea." Lord Rogar said, interrupting the young girl.

Mary cleared her throat before continuing "I lived with my father and sister, Rose, you're grace, papa was the village butcher, everyone would say he was a fiend but that weren't true you're grace, it weren't! He just liked his drink too much is all, but he weren't a bad man… He didn't deserve what they did to him" The young girls voice began to crack, and tears started to form in her hazel eyes.

"I'm sure your father was a fine man, Mary. But, please, focus on the details of the attack" Lord Rogar said placing a firm hand on the girl's shoulder

Mary looked into her liege lords' pale blue eyes for a moments before nodding timidly "They came at night; papa was at the ale house and Rose had gone to bring him home. Papa could be stubborn when it came to the drink you see, I didn't know how long she'd be so I decided to sleep while Rose collected him. I don't know how long I slept for, but I was woken by screaming. I run up to the window to see what was going on and I see Icedale burning, huts ablaze and people screaming… And the demons" Mary paused for a moment, staring at the stone floor of the throne room. Her eyes held no real focus and she seemed to stare off into oblivion. "The demons came charging across the beach, yelling and laughing as the cut people down, I saw one of the sink their axe into Weslar the carpenters skull, saw them grab whatever girls they could and carry them back to the sea. Rose came bursting into the house, she said the demons torched the ale house with papa still inside and that we needed to hide. She hid me in a spot neath the floorboards where papa used to keep food during the winter, but Rose wasn't quick enough to hid herself, the demons found her, they said such mean things to her, said she was a pretty young thing and where her father was" The girls voice began to break and tears ran down her cheeks "I heard them hit her, she begged for mercy but they didn't listen you're grace. I heard her struggle as they pinned her down and her cries as they… As she was…" Mary dropped to her knees, her voice fading into a mournful sobs

Alarra sat stone faced, she didn't show it, but her heart ached for the weeping child in front of her, to lose one's family was a great pain but to lose them at such a young age and to such savagery? That was a pain she was all to familiar with. "Peace child, I've heard enough, you don't need to say anymore" The girl nodded between sobs "Maester Kaylin, take young Mary to the kitchens, see that she is well fed and find her somewhere comfortable to sleep"

"Of course, you're grace" The elderly Maester replied, slowly rising from his seat at Alarra's side. Maester Kaylin hobbled over to the softly weeping girl and helped her to her feet "Come child, you're safe now" He said in a gently voice, wrapping an arm around Mary and escorting her out of the throne room.

"By the time my men arrived Icedale was nothing but a collection of burnt huts and bodies They found young Mary still curled up under her home" Lord Rogar explained "They found no trace of her sister"

"And you say bandits were not behind this attack, Lord Bolton?" Alarra asked.

"No, you're grace, Bandits know better than to attack Bolton lands" Lord Rogar replied, his lips curling into a smirk "We have… Effective means of deterring common brigands"

Alarra felt her skin crawl at Lord Rogar's words "Do you at least have any ideas about where those responsible went, Lord Bolton?"

"I had my best hunters search for those responsible, but they found no tracks or indicators of who might be responsible" Lord Rogar said

"Are you saying they just disappeared? Or are saying that demons were the behind this massacre like Mary said?" Alarra took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose "Apologise my lord, the day has been long"

Lord Rogar's smile waned for a moment, his pale eyes narrowing slightly at Alarra's words "We may not know who is behind this attack you're grace or where they skulked off to, but we do know their means of attack, they attacked from the sea, that is the only logical conclusion"

"Similar attacks have happened on my lands also you're grace" A deep voice called out from the crowd of lords. Beneath a banner stamped with the silver fist of house Glover a man stepped forward, Alarra recognised him as Lord Portar Glover "Three hamlets on coast of the sunset sea have also been raided, raids that match what Lord Bolton described in almost every way. I say its Wildlings, come down from their frozen shit hole to take our wares and women" The Glover lordling said.

"No Wildlings could have made it that far past the wall, boy, let alone Umber lands" Yet another called out, this one was gruff, deep and caked in thick northern accent. Alarra saw a beast of a man step forward beneath the banner of House Umber "And as for your hamlets, perhaps if you spent more time with a sword in your hand rather than a whore tit you might be better at protecting your lands" Armund Umber, Lord of Last Hearth yelled out to the Glover

"HOW DARE YOU!" Lord Glover cried back.

The room soon devolved into a mass yells and curses. Alarra her head begin to pound as her liege lords argued, Eris began to growl softy, sensing her master's distress "ENOUGH!" Alarra slammed her fist down onto the table "I WILL NOT HAVE THIS THRONE ROOM DESCEND INTO ANARCHY, CEASE THIS CHILDISH ARGUING!"

"But!" Lord Glover called out.

"Your queen has given you a commander Lord Glover, you do well to follow it" Alarra glared at the aged man, her grey eyes hardening as she stared down the disrespectful lord. The grey-haired man lowered his gaze and bowed his head in apology "As for you Lord Umber, no one here is questioning you or your kins prowess at defending the realm from the few Wildlings that do make it past the wall. But given past events I had hoped you would be less arrogant about such accusations"

Lord Umber stared at Alarra for a moment, his face a mix of surprise and guilt "Of course you're grace, you're right" Armund replied, his eyes falling to the fall "Please forgive my outburst"

"You are forgiven my lord, but now is not the time to be defensive" Alarra said, her grey eyes roaming over the crowd "My people are being murdered and taken by an unknown enemy, I do not have the luxury to take any possibility for granted… If Wildlings truly are the ones behind these raids, then it must…"

"It's not Wildlings"

A gruff and ancient sounding voice cut Alarra off. The room fell silent as the sound of wood impacting stone echoed through the throne room, Alarra leaned forward as she saw the man behind the voice. He was a large man, rivalling Lord Umber in sheer size and musculature yet was near twenty years his senior, his head was shaved bald and a thick, snow white beard covered his chin. His face was a mess of scars, big and small, the worst of which was the long-healed wound that had once been the man's left eyes. He was missing three fingers on his right hand and had a wooden peg in place of his left leg, just above his knee… Alarra recognised this ancient warrior immediately, before her stood the Great Bear, Col Mormont, Lord of Bear Island.

"Forgive my interruption you're grace, but Lord Umber is correct, Wildlings are not behind these raids" Lord Mormont said, bowing respectfully.

"Lord Mormont? I had not expected you" Alarra sat up straight, looking down at the grizzled old bear before her "I assume have your own thoughts on who is behind these attacks?"

"I do you're grace" Col answered "The Ironborn are responsible"

"Ironborn? And might I ask what brought you to this conclusion, my Lord?"

"I know the Ironborn and their ways better than most you're grace" Col replied, his one remaining eye looking towards his peg leg "The events that young girl described, it reeks of Ironborn savagery"

"The Ironborn have not attacked the North of years" Alarra said, her voice growing more and more tired "They raid for gold, jewels and silver, all things the North lacks. With respect, my lord, but what would the Ironborn have to gain from attacking us?"

"You are correct, you're grace, the North has never had the bounties Ironborn crave in abundance like the kingdoms to the south" Col said, his honey gold eye meeting Alarra's "But we have always had the bounties they need, sturdy wood, strong men and hardy women. And I have heard rumours that Amos Hoare's monstrous castle nears completion"

Alarra swallowed hard, she had heard the same rumours, a castle, colossal in size and scope that had been under construction for years. She had never met the king of the Rivers and Isles, Amos Hoare and given the man's reputation, she was glad. She shuddered to think of what that man would do once his impregnable fortress was completed… Where he would turn his sight to next.

"And you're certain that the Ironborn are behind these raids, Lord Mormont?"

"By the old gods and the new, you're grace. I swear by my honour" The old Lord replied firmly.

Alarra felt her heart begin to race and her mind did the same, what was she supposed to do against Ironborn raids? She couldn't start a war over a few villages, but she couldn't stand by and let her people be murdered… or worse. After a moment of thought she straightened up and spoke.

"Very well, my lords, you have all heard what I have today! The Ironborn torment our Northern shores!" Alarra called out, her voice booming through the entire throne room "I will not stand by while they rape and pillage my lands, we must bolster our defences. My lord, I command all of you to rally all men you can, establish patrols along the coasts of your lands, garrison the villages you feel most vulnerable and train your men in Ironborn defence"

Voice of agreement began to rise in the room as lord nodded in approval.

"Lord Bolton, you have lost the most to these raids thus far" Alarra's gaze met Lord Rogar's once again "For this I will send fifty men from Winterfell's own garrison to assist in guarding your lands as well and what volunteers in can find to help rebuild Icedale"

"My thanks, you're grace. You are too generous" Lord Rogar replied, giving a low bow.

Alarra gave the young lord a respectful nod before turning her attention to Lord Mormont

"Lord Mormont, you know the Ironborn better than any other Northman alive. I would have you remain in Winterfell for foreseeable future, to advise me in their ways".

Col's eye widened in surprise "You're grace, I… It would be an honour, you're grace" Col replied hesitantly, giving Alarra a respectful nod.

"Very well, you all know what must be done to protect our lands, should the Ironborn attack again, show them no mercy." Alarra said firmly before rising to her feet "Now… This meeting has come to an end, may the old gods protect you all, My lord"

Alarra walked out of the throne room, Eris following along right behind her as she made her way to her chambers. No matter how hard she tried she could not stop her hands from shaking.

* * *

Arryk Karstark walked through the dimly lit corridors of Winterfell, the flames of the occasional wall scones were the only things that illuminated his path. The nights in Winterfell had always seemed to be darker than those of Karhold, Arryk remembered his first nights in the Starks great keep, he could barely see enough to find his way to the privy most night, thankfully he grew more than familiar with the castles corridors and paths ways in the years that followed.

The echo of his footsteps cut through the silence that hung over the mostly sleeping castle as he neared his destination, he finally arrived at the sturdy wooden door of Queen Alarra's chambers, two guards stationed outside, one an older looking man with a bushy, salt and pepper beard and the other a younger man with thick ginger mutton chops. Arryk recognised them both, Robart and Orwen (Or Red Orwen, as he was more often called) two of Winterfell's finest guards. The two men stood at attention as they saw Arryk approach. "I've come to speak with the queen"

"Sorry M'lord, Queens sleepin" Red Orwen said. A sudden groan of frustration coming from behind the door followed by a string of curses disproved the gingers word.

"Mhm, sleeping like a new-born babe by the sounds of it" Arryk replied, folding his arms in front of his chest. Orwen flashed him a sheepish grin and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"apologies M'lord, Orwen meant no disrespect. Boys heads barren as a farmer fields mid-winter" Robert said, giving his partner a disapproving look.

"He gave non, my friend. That being said I do still need to speak with our queen"

"ugh, unfortunately M'lord the queens ordered not to be disturbed" Robert said sheepishly.

Arryk's patience was starting to wane "Listen, my friends. I am one of her grace's advisors, I have important business to discuss with her, business that cannot wait. So, my friends, I will ask you once more. Please. Stand. Aside"

Red Orwen and Robert to at each other for a moment before stepping aside, letting Arryk enter Alarra's chambers "Thank you" Arryk said as the pushed the door open and stepped into the room. As he entered the room he was greeted by a sight that could only be described as chaotic, papers and books haphazardly scattered on the floor, a grey dress with a white fur mantle tossed into a corner along with the boots that were paired with it, a messy feather bed with a softly snoring Direwolf atop it. And in the back of the room, hunched over a desk was Alarra, her long dark brown hair was dishevelled, and she wore a simple sleeping gown. She sat, quill in hand, scribbling down something onto a piece of parchment, a half-melted candle illuminating her desk.

"A little late for paperwork, don't you think, you're grace?" Arryk said, walking to Alarra's side.

"I have a lot to do, todays meeting once… eventful" Alarra replied, her eyes still focused on what she was writing "But you'd know that if you had decided to show up"

"If I recall, it was you who suggested I take today off, you're grace"

Alarra scoffed "Of course, just my luck. The one meeting I allow your absence is the one that something of actual importance is brought up"

"I heard… If it's any consolation I think you made the right decision"

"Really?"

"Yes, We don't have enough information to call for war, the best thing we can do, at least for now, is to bolster our defences" Arryk said, stroking his chin "I also approve of having Lord Mormont stay, if he's correct we'll need a man of his expertise"

A smile spread across Alarra's lips as she continued to write, a smile Arryk returned, he hoped his words had given Alarra some comfort. From what he had heard, the meeting was intense, having to listen to that young girl's story would have been hard enough for him, he could not begin to imagine what it had been like for Alarra.

"What are you writing?" He asked, leaning over the desk slightly

"Official orders to the Northern Lords, I want coastal defences to be bolstered and the most venerable villages to be protected" Alarra answered "And written instructions to the master-at-arms, informing him of the fifty men to be sent to Lord Bolton"

Arryk felt his skin crawl at the mention of Rogar Bolton, the man had always been a snake, conniving and scheming and always craving more power. Arryk was surprised to hear that he had come to Winterfell, his family rarely left their lands since Alarra rejected Rogar's marriage proposal, reject often breed bitterness. Arryk shook the thoughts of Rogar Bolton from his head, focusing on his exhausted queen once again, the candlelight illuminating the dark bags that had begun to form under her soft grey eyes "All things that could be done by me, you should sleep"

"Arryk, please don't fuss, I'll sleep once I've finished" Alarra replied, leaning back in her chair for a moment. She turned to face her advisor, seeing the worried expression he had on his face "Fine, but I won't have you do my duty for me, I will finish them come morning"

Arryk smiled softy and nodded, he opened his mouth about to speak but a sudden knock at the door interrupted him

"Enter" Alarra said

The door creaked open and the hunched over figure of Maester Kaylin entered the room, the rhythmic jangle of chains moving following his every step.

"You're grace, my lord" The elderly Maester said, giving a respectful nod to each of the nobles.

"Maester Kaylin, what brings you here at this hour?" Alarra asked.

"A raven arrived moments ago, you're grace" Maester Kaylin explained, pulling a scroll from his sleeve "It was carrying this"

Alarra rose from her seat and took the scroll from the old man, turning it in her hand, inspecting it. The letter seemed official, baring a red wax seal though she could not place the sigil that was stamped on it. "I don't recognise this sigil. A dragon mid-flight?" Alarra asked, giving Maester Kaylin a quizzical look.

"Its not sigil from a noble house, my queen. Rather the sigil of the island of Dragonstone"

"The Dragonlords? What could they possible want?" Arryk's eyes widened in surprise.

The exact same thought ran through Alarra's mind, the Targaryen Dragonlords had little to no contact with the North since their arrival to Westeros, for what reason had they now decide to send a letter? Alarra swallowed nervously as she broke the wax seal and unfolded the scroll, her grey eyes scanning its contents intensely. "Unbelievable" She whispered, the slightest hint of a smirk curling along her lips.

"What does it say" Arryk asked, feeling a chill run across his body.

"It's a wedding invitation"

"What?!"

"See for yourself" Alarra said, chuckling slightly as she handed the letter to Arryk

Arryk's dark brown eyes scanned the letter "Alarra of house Stark, you are cordially invited to the wedding of Lord Daemon of house Targaryen and his sister, Rhaella of house Targaryen. The wedding shall be held within three week on the island of Dragonstone, we eagerly await your attendance" Arryk couldn't help but grimace at the casual mention of incest.

"Like I said, unbelievable"

"You don't actually plan on going do you?"

"I don't know, it doesn't really seem like they have given me much of choice" Alarra said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

"With respect you're grace, I believe you should attend" said Maester Kaylin "The Dragonlords have broken a long era of silence, to ignore such an event will be seen as an insult"

"We have Ironborn raiding our coasts, this is hardly the time for our queen to leave the North" Arryk said, tossing the invitation onto Alarra's desk.

"The North has dealt with the Ironborn before, Lord Karstark, we know what they are capable of. But the Dragonlords, they are another beast entirely, even the citadels knowledge of them is scares at best" Maester Kaylin explained "I would advise against insulting them"

"Maester Kaylin is right" Alarra said

"What? You're grace, I would recommend at least sleeping on the matter. Now just doesn't seem like the right time" Arryk protested.

"I've made my decision Arryk, the Targaryens are too much of an unknown to risk making an enemy out of them" Alarra said sternly "Maester Kaylin, send a raven to Lord Manderly, have him prepare a ship and crew, I'll leave for White Harbor come morning"

"Yes, you're grace" Maester Kaylin gave a small bow to each noble before hobbling out of the room.

"My brother should return from his hunt tomorrow, if I'm gone before he returns inform him of the situation "Alarra ordered, turning to Arryk "He is to be acting lord of Winterfell while I'm gone"

"Very well, You're grace… I'll leave you to rest" Arryk said, giving Alarra a respectful bow before leaving her to sleep. As he walked through the dark corridors of Winterfell, back to his own chambers, the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach grew and grew and he prayed to the old gods and the new that all would be well for the North and its queen.

* * *

_Bear Island, The Kingdom of the North_

Corrin Snow sprinted through the dense, dark forest of Bear Island, his heart racing in his chest as the ominous orange glow on the forests edge grew closer and closer, the distant sound of screams and metal hitting metal pushed him even harder until he finally burst from the forest onto the rocky shores of the island. The smell hit him first, the bitter smell of smoke, sweat… And blood, the cause of these smells turned his stomach even more however, huts burning, children crying and screaming as the tried to flee and the most chilling sight of all, a long ship loomed over the small settlements' shores. Corrin felt his blood run cold as his worst fears were confirmed, the Ironborn were attacking.

A scream of pain pulled Corrin's attention away from the moored ship, he turned to face the direction of the scream and saw its source. A shieldmaiden, unarmoured and dressed in a simple night gown but still wielding her shield and short sword. She was heavily wounded and surrounded by six Ironborn wielding a mix of axes, swords and shields, three more Ironborn lay dead at her feet. Corrin could see she was gravely wounded, keeping her shield high and sword at the ready, she snarled and swung at the Ironborn as, one after the other, they tried to flank her. The woman was fierce, but their numbers proved too much for her. Her guard wavered for but a moment, but a moment was all it too as an Ironborn raider bolted to her left flank ran his sword through her leg, the Shieldmaiden howled in pain before dropping to her knees. She tried to push herself back onto her feet but a hard kick from one of the now jeering Ironborn sent her tumbling onto her back.

Corrin did not think, he just acted. He sprinted forward as he saw the warrior woman fall, his longsword draw. In moments he reached his target and with a fierce roar he plunged his longsword through the side of the Ironborn who had delivered the kick, the man screamed in pain before falling dead. The other Ironborn turned to face Corrin, their mouths wide in shock, using their surprise to his advantage Corrin swung his sword again, slicing the throat of the closest Ironborn in a single swift motion, the man crumbled to his knees, letting out a few gurgled breaths before he too slumped onto the ground, dead. The shocked expressions on the other raiders faces had now turned into those of anger as the now turned their attention from the writhing woman on the floor to the boy who had just killed two of their comrades.

"That was my brother you just killed, boy!" One of the raiders roared, his grip tightening on the rusted sword in his hand "I'll have your fucking head for that!"

The raider charged forward; his sword raised above his head. With a roar of anger, he brought the weapon down, Corrin raised his sword high, bracing for the impact, with a heavy clang the two weapons collided. Corrin grunted as he parried the sword to the side, the raider swung again, Corrin side stepped, barely dodging the attack. The Raider staggered forward as his sword cut through the air where Corrin once stood, unable to stop himself. Corrin did not hesitate, he lunged forward, seizing the opportunity the raiders reckless attack had given him. He plunged his sword deep into the raider's chest and through his heart. The Raider groaned in pain before taking his last ragged breath, his body tumbling off Corrin's sword and thudding onto the ground next to his fallen brother.

The remaining Ironborn stumbled back a few steps, the expression growing more and more concerned as Corrins grey eyes moved between them, his sword held at the ready once again.

"Well, well, well, looks like we have ourselves a hero, lads" a deep chuckle cut the silence that had formed "You some kind of knight, boy?"

Corrin stayed silent, his guard still up as he moved himself between the raiders and the fallen shieldmaiden, his eyes moving over to where the voice came from. A large man stepped forward, clad in full steel plate and an open face helm, a large two-headed battle-axe rested against his shoulder and engraved on his chest plate was the scythe of House Harlaw. He pushed his way through the raiders until he and Corrin were less than ten feet apart, as the man swaggered towards him Corrin caught sight of more Ironborn making their way towards him, tossing what plunder and women then had to one side as they followed their captain. Corrin swallowed nervously, there must have been twenty reavers, maybe thirty.

"Odds aren't looking good for you boy" The plate clad reaver smirked, gesturing to his band of murderous pirates "Lay down your sword and I'll let you live… You will be a thrall of course; King Hoare has a need for strong lads"

Corrin swallowed hard, trying not to show the fear he was feeling. He looked towards the fallen shieldmaiden, her face and nightgown covered in covered in blood. Panting heavily, she pushed herself onto one knee, leaning on her shield for support. She looked up at Corrin, her moss green eyes locking with his dark grey eyes. The two stared at each other for a moment before the shieldmaiden let out a shaky breath and gave Corrin a knowing nod before grabbing the bloody sword that lay beside her, ready to die as a warrior.

Corrin felt tears sting his eyes as he gazed at the woman before him, who's home burned in front of her, who had been beaten and abused, and she still refused to surrender… and neither would he. Corrin's eyes shifted once again to the heavily armoured Ironborn captain "Here I stand" He said proudly, holding his sword at the ready.

"Shame, it would have been fun watching Reavos break you" The Harlow captain said with a smile, his axe now held at the ready.

The sudden sound of a horn blast torn through the area, stopping the captain before he could order his men to charge. Corrin and the captain both turned to face the origins of the sounds and Corrin couldn't help but smile at what he saw, stood on the edge of the forest was a horde of Bear Islanders wielding swords, spears, bows and axes, enough men and women to match, if not outnumber the Ironborn. And at their head stood a grey-haired woman, clad in a steel brigandine, his grandmother, Sera Mormont.

"HERE WE STAND!" She screamed, raising her sword and shield above her head. The horde of warriors matched her war cry and charged to face the Ironborn invaders.

In a heartbeat Corrin was surrounded by utter chaos as the two small armies clashed, the sounds of shields splintering, swords hitting swords and the scream of the dying echoed all around him. Corrin wasted no time in joining the fray, cutting down any and all Ironborn he could as he tried to find the Ironborn captain among the chaos. The air was suddenly forced from his lungs as he was shouldered to the ground by something strong and hard, he looked up to see the Harlow captain, his armour and axe smeared with blood and weapon raised above his head. Corrin grabbed a nearby shield just in time to block the Ironborn's axe, the blade skidding off the shield. Clambering back to his feet, Corrin striked the captain's head, using the shield as a makeshift club and sending the man's steel helm clattering to the ground. Corrin tried to follow through with another strike from the shield, but the Harlow swung his axe backwards, knocking the shield from Corrins grip.

"Fucking bastard!" The Harlow screamed in anger; his face twisted into a hateful scowl as he regained his balance. "I'm gonna pin your head to the mast of my ship, boy"

Corrin charged at the captain, his longsword clanging against the man's axe as the two men duelled. The fight felt like it lasted hours as Corrin parried and dodged the heavy head of the axe, his own attacks either being blocked of glazing off the man's armour. Corrin felt his muscles burn from exhaustion and his breath had grown heavy, finally he found an opening, he slide the blade of his sword beneath the head of the axe and with a heavy tug pried it from the Ironborn's grip, sending it skidding into the sea. This small victory was short lived however, as a heavy gauntleted fist slammed into his face.

"Fuck!" Corrin groaned in pain as he felt his nose break under the Ironborn's fist. The raider punched again, this time sending a hard-upper cut into Corrins stomach, the air vanished from his lungs and his sword slips from his fingers and he dropped to one knee, gasping for air.

"First, I'm gonna gut you" The captain whispered as he grabbed Corrin by the throat "Then I'm gonna rape that Mormont bitch and drag your women back to Harrenhal"

Corrin tried to get to his feet, but his muscles screamed with every movement. The captain kicked him hard in the chest, causing him to fall backwards into the water, landing next to the moored long ship. Corrin pushed his head above the water for a moment before the Ironborn captain pushed it back under the churning waves. Corrin struggled hard, kicking, scratching and punching the Ironborn but to no avail, his strength was sapped and as he the sea water enter his lungs his attacks grew even weaker and the world began to grow dark. Suddenly he heard a muffed roar and the Ironborn tumbled off of him, free from the force holding him down Corrin sat up, coughing up seawater and gasping for air. He barely registered the crazed screams of pain to his side, turning he saw the a black furred Direwolf, its jaws locked around the exposed neck of the Harlow captain. The beast thrashed its head side to side, ripping and tearing the flailing mans throat to pieces until his screams turned to pained gurgled and then to silence, the ocean water now red with Ironborn blood.

The wolf released the dead man and trotted up Corrin, it sniffed at the young bastard and let out a sharp whimper before licking his face gently. Corrin chuckled between panting breaths and pet the large wolfs neck "Thank you, boy"

"Corrin! Are you alright?"

Sera Mormont jogged up to the shores, she was caked in blood, mud and sweat but alive. "Yes, Lady Mormont, I'm alive" Corrin said raggedly, standing up and walking out of the water.

"Good" Sera replied, a warm smile on her face. The second Corrin got close enough however her fist met his face, the punch was hard enough to knock the exhausted boy off his feet… Again, but not truly hurt him. "The next time you charge ahead without waiting for reinforcements, I'll do the same with a hammer. Am I clear, boy?"

"Yes, Grandmother" Corrin groaned rubbing his jaw "We won?"

"If we didn't, we would not be having this conversation" Sera said, helping her grandson to his feet.

Corrin looked around him, the shore was littered with the dead, Ironborn and Islander alike, he thanked the old gods that it more of the former.

"Hmm, Frost did nasty work to this one" Sera said, looking to the corpse of the Ironborn captain "That was Victarion Harlow, scourge of the Sunset sea… good riddance" the elderly matron spat on the body.

"Why send such a large raiding party to such a small settlement?" Corrin asked.

"Most of the Islands iron is found around these parts. Maybe they wanted it?"

Corrin ran a hand through his long dark brown hair, an uneasy feeling growing inside of him as he tried to make sense of it all.

"Lady Mormont!"

Corrin and Sera both turned, a group of shieldmaidens marched forwards, dragging a lanky man dressed in the blue garbs of an Ironborn, behind them

"Lady Mormont, we found this one trying to escape through the forests" One of the shieldmaiden said, shoving the man to his knees in front of Sera.

Now that Corrin could see the man better, he was shocked, the man was more of a boy, baby faced and trembling, no more than fifteen. The boy was skinny, with unkempt black hair and already missing a few teeth, in truth he was almost pitiful.

"Escape?" Sera burst out into a hearty laugh "You do realise you're on an island, boy, where exactly did you plan on escaping to?"

Corrin never thought he would see an expression that mixed both absolute terror and embarrassment, and yet that was the exact expression this young boy wore as a group of warrior women mocked and made a fool of him.

"Please, m'lady. I didn't do no harm" The boy begged, his voice trembling.

"No harm? I fear our burning homes and dead sisters and brother point to the contrary"

"I had no hand in that, m'lady. I pretended to but I just watched!"

"Just watched you say?" Sera said, kneeling down to meet the boys gaze "In that case, chain him to a rock on the coast, should any more of his kin return they can watch the sea bird eat his flesh"

The boy broke down, throwing himself onto the ground, clasping onto Sera's boot "No! Please, m'lady. Mercy! I didn't hurt no one I swear, I will tell you whatever you want, please! I don't want to die" The boy grovelled, tears and snot running down his face

Corrin could not help but feel pity for the boy "Maybe it would be better to keep him alive, my lady" He said staring down at the whimpering boy "Maybe he knows something useful. If not, the wall could always use fresh men"

"By the gods, FINE!" Sera exclaimed, kicking the boy off her boot. "Take his one to Mormont Keep, throw him in the dungeons, I'm sure my lord husband will want a word with him once he returns"

"Thank you, m'lady… and you, m'lord. Gods bless your mercy" the boy whimpers before being dragged off by the shield maidens.

"As for you, Corrin. I think its high time you got some rest" Sera said, placing a hand on her grandsons' shoulder

"That sounds like a fantastic idea, grandmother"

Sera smiled warmly and nodded "Helna!" She cried out into the crowd of warrior that now roamed along the shore, clearing the dead and putting out what fires they could.

A short haired young woman, no older than twenty-three and dressed in gambeson and mail and wielding a bow stepped forward "Yes, Mother?" she asked, jogging up to her mother

"Help Corrin back to the keep, we have things under control now"

"Of course, Mother" Helna Mormont bowed before smirking at her nephew, jabbing him in the arm "C'mon snow, there's a cold mug of ale with our names on it"

Corrin almost moaned at the idea of a warm fire and cold ale… Maybe even a bath. He limped alongside his aunt towards Mormont keep, Frost bounding ahead of them both as the Ironborn long ship was set ablaze behind them.

**Alright! And there we have it! Chapter 3 done. And boy that was longer than I expected it to be, but hey, after making you guys wait so long consider this my apology, I hope you enjoyed. Honestly this chapter was an absolute blast to write, especially the Bear Island scene, this is my first time writing an action scene so I apologise if it's a little sloppy or poorly written (if anyone has advise on how to improve I'd be happy to hear it). I also had a blast writing Sera Mormont, like I did not expect her to be so fun to write, hopefully she was also fun to read.**

**Now a little info on the next few chapter of this story (which will NOT take me months to write).They are pretty much going to be Intro chapter to the other houses, two houses per chapter, I can't promise they will be as long as this one however. These chapters also won't just be random filler, I do plan on setting u some hints and groundwork, they will just mainly be used as a way to introduce houses and characters. Next chapter we will be meeting the Hoares and the Arryns, so if you want to send in a character for those houses try to do so before the chapter is up. **

**Submission are still open so if you want to feel free to send in your characters, the main characters I need are wives for king Lannister and Arryn, as well as some Tyrells (mainly a lord Tyrell in his mid to late -30s), I could also use some more side character like Maesters or handmaidens or knights. Hell, even some unsullied if you want (A little retcon that House Veltaris brought some Unsullied with them from Qohor, because why not? I am god in this world) **

**Another little thing if you want to submit members of a noble house that already has a lord (Starks, Lannister, Arryns etc) please let me know first so I can give you all relevant information as most of their backstories have already been made by other submitters. Just a heads up, while I'm not accepting anymore children of the previous Stark king (Alarra's father) I will be accepting uncles, aunts and cousins for House Stark. I also plan to move this story into the "A song of ice and fire" category, I feel like it fits that category better as this story has literally nothing to do with the TV show **

**Anything else? Oh yeah! I also have a Witcher SYOC planned, this will be a more slice of life/ monster of the week kind of story (at least at the start) and it would not be my main focus, just a little side thing. If that is something, you'd be interest in let me know!**

**Welp that's everything from me, Until next time ciao!**


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